I Can Make You Love Me
by Bryn'ryo'ishtar
Summary: Hannibal has just been outed as the Ripper, so what's the one thing he choses to take with him when he flees? A reluctant and terrified FBI profiler, who Hannibal's determined to make his, no matter what it takes. Hannigram, non-con, dub-con, murder (duh), slightly BDSM
1. Chapter 1

**So, fannibals, this is my first fanfic in a long time, and my first Hannigram fanfic, but be prepared for some pretty hardcore stuff. Um, though it might take a few chapters to pick up.**

**Mostly obsessive cannibals, adorkable FBI profilers and dogs. Lotsa lotsa dogs. All rights go to however deserves them, yadda yadda yadda.**

**No non-con in this chapter, but be prepared.**

Chapter 1

William Graham was not a neat person. Anyone who knew him figured this out pretty quickly, since it was written all over what he wore and what he did. His car was fine example of that.

It was old, rusted blue, barely pulling through and on the verge of dying every single possible day, and the inside was coated in a layer of pages that were plans and paper he had to grade for class. To someone who didn't know, it would several dictionaries had blown up inside the car, but Will Graham assured anyone who asked that he had a _system._ He could afford a better car, but he wouldn't leave the one he had until it flat out and _died._

Which it did, on his way to work on an early Saturday morning, leaving him stranded in Nowhere, Maryland with nothing but twenty miles between him and the next town. He stared glumly at the engine for an obscene amount of time, thinking that if he just stared long enough and looked sad enough, the radiator would eventually up and fix without his help. Pulling his head out, he took a deep breath to let go of the urge to kick the car, and then it started to rain.

Whimpering slightly, something he'd never do if he'd thought anyone was watching, he pulled his hood up to try to defend his glasses against the rain.

If anyone came by at all on this road, it would be a complete blessing. He'd been on his way to Oakfield, Pennsylvania to help Agent Crawford with a case, another one by the Chesapeake Ripper. It was the first time the Chesapeake Ripper had killed in at least two years, and Jack was desperate to catch him this time, so much so that he was happy to drag Will Graham out of his classes and get him out on the field. Will wasn't sure how much use he'd be. He'd spent all of last evening looking at the crime scene photos from the last time he'd struck and he was missing something, he knew he was missing something, but he couldn't figure out what that was.

He'd been hoping to find it out today, at that crime scene, but he could only figure out the mystery if he could actually get there, which wasn't looking likely. Sadly enough, he'd left his phone at home again, since he could never get the hang of using it. He lay back in his seat, allowing for a moment the rain and the car to defeat him.

Headlights glowed behind him and his eyes shot open. He fumbled to get the car down open and jumped out in a puddle, holding his hand over his eyes to try and see. A black, expensive looking car was approaching, and Will prayed he would be able to see him through all the rain. He stood on the side of the road and waved, hoping to get some attention, and the car speed by.

He let out a deep sigh.

Figures, that meant he had to walk all the way to town to call and taxi and get totally soaked—up ahead, the black car pulled over not fifteen feet from Will and he perked up. The man's features were sharp and regally handsome, his hair was thick and combed back away from his fine features, but what were really fascinating were his eyes. They were an odd shade, somewhere between bright yellow and brown, and from the reflection glancing off the light in his car; his eyes seemed, for a moment, scarlet red.

Dr. Lector.

"Car troubles?" He asked, his voice light and foreign, and his eyes sparkling a bit with humor. Will let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank god it's you, Doctor. I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to beg a ride off of some stranger."

"It's not a problem." Hannibal said with an easy, slight smile. "I am happy to help a friend in need. Your car, it is dead?"

Smiling sheepishly, Will shrugged. "It's been on the brink of death for years. I was wondering if I could borrow your cellphone? I left mine at home."

"Absolutely, but first why don't you come in out of that rain. It looks horrendous out there," his nose was crinkled in disdain. In truth, it was starting to become a down wards flood of epic proportions. "I wouldn't want my favorite patient getting sick, after all."

"Thank you," Will said with a smile, sliding in, trying to keep his seat from getting wet. He called the tow company first, telling them to be extra careful with his car and not to move around any of the stuff on the floor and seats. Finally, he looked at Hannibal. "You wouldn't happen to be going to Pennsylvania, too, would you?"

"Indeed, I am." Hannibal said after an unnoticeable and short pause.

"Oh, good, I'm glad Jack called you in too. I hate having to work the Ripper cases alone, it's just so…" He struggled to find the right words for it.

"Creepy?" Hannibal asked with a slight smile.

"No, not that," Will tossed his head to the side, shyly. "Well, I suppose you are my therapist, or my… I don't know, friend? I just kind of feel when I see the Ripper's victims…"

"Yes?" Hannibal asked, barely able to contain himself.

"I see myself in them." Will said finally, and the touch of a real smile came across Hannibal's face, the first real one in years. "It's hard to explain."

"Then don't." Hannibal said. "Some things are impossible to put into the human language. Tell me, what have you gathered from his victims?" They settled into the old routine of questions, Will becoming noticeably more comfortable.

"Well, this is at least the fifth Ripper victim I've been to, so I think I have a pretty good feel on who I think he is. He's… intelligent, sophisticated, and he thinks… no, he _knows_ he's better than his victims. He thinks they're filth, animals, undeserving… but despite it all he's happy with the time he spends with them, with… what he gets out of it. He's vastly enjoying himself." Will said, turning his head slightly to the side as he thought. Hannibal's eyes glowed, and his smile turned into a smirk. Will was one of the few people he liked to hear talk about 'The Ripper', because he was always so… right. In fact, everything about Will was perfect. Hannibal had created killers before, but… none like Will Graham. He was special. Hannibal saw himself in Will, saw someone worthy for the first time in what seemed like forever. He wanted to make Will into a killer, but more than that.

All the others had merely been experiments, distractions, and he enjoyed seeing them get caught. Will, on the other hand, he wanted to keep forever. He wanted to make Will into the perfect untouchable killer, like himself. He wanted Will to be his partner, in every way.

They would take people and kill them together—it would be easy to influence Will's trusting mind, especially with the usage of drugs and his empathy. Then they'd devour the bodies, and… and…

He imagined sinking into Will's trusting body, making them whole, complete, together. The things he'd do to him…

"It's exciting," Will said, blissfully unaware, "isn't it?"

"Hmm?" Hannibal asked, snapped out of his daydreams.

"Jack didn't tell you? The Ripper left some sort of evidence, so they're about to find him. Apparently the victim stayed alive long enough to make some sort of phone call, and knew whom the Ripper was. He said who it was on the recording." Will said, still blissful, but Hannibal could feel the blood pounding in his ears. That little maggot Harrison! He knew he should have made sure, but he'd already strangled him and cut out his liver and kidneys. How could he have…?

And Jack. Calling him in that soft voice, leading him right to his own arrest. What a foolish mistake. He couldn't believe it was about to end like this.

"Interesting," Hannibal finally managed.

"Yeah, actually, I was going to call Jack, give him a heads-up that I might be a bit late. You don't mind?" Hannibal indicated that he didn't and Will picked up the phone. He could hear the dial tone clearly enough, and his mind was ablaze. Of course he had a backup plane to leave the States for this very situation, but he couldn't leave Will behind. All his plans…

Even as Jack answered the phone, Hannibal was already deciding what to do. The car began to slow down.

"Hello, Jack? I had a bit of car trouble so I'm going to be late."

Faintly, he heard Jack talking back over the phone.

"Oh, yeah," Will said, as the car gained more and more speed. "I got a ride with Hannibal. Apparently he was on his way there, too?"

Absolute silence on the other end, except the faintest of gasps, which told Hannibal all he needed to know. Already the steering wheel was drifting, and Hannibal was preparing himself for it. Then Jack started yelling, so loud even Hannibal could hear him.

"_Get out, Will! He's the Ripper! Hannibal is the Ripper!"_

There was the faintest pause of time, as Will comprehended what was said, and faintly turned to look at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. Hannibal was already leaning over across the seat, going for the glove compartment and Will still wasn't moving, staring at Hannibal with an indecipherable look of shock and betrayal on his face and still not moving. Hannibal pulled a needle out of the compartment and then finally Will reacted, shoving Hannibal's arm away and struggling against his seatbelt to get out. He grabbed Will strongly with the one arm that wasn't holding the needle, pressing Will's back into his chest, his arm under his chin.

It reminded Hannibal of all his times with his victims, though this time was obscenely different. Will was different. There was something heart wrenching, even to Hannibal, about seeing the despair and fear and betrayal on Will's face, though his face as always was emotionless. Calmly, confidently, Hannibal managed to jab the needle into Will Graham's arm and inject him, despite his struggles. Finally, Will's struggles lessened and lessened, until Will was fully asleep in his arms. He pulled the needle out and back into the glove compartment, stopping only to place a tender and compassionate kiss on Will's head. He hadn't wanted it to go like this, but he was convinced there were still ways to make Will exactly the way he wanted him to be.

Over the telephone, Jack screamed and shouted, but Hannibal had already made his choice to pick up and go, and so he started the car back up with Will in the seat next to him and began the long road.

There were still ways to make Will his, and he now had all the time in the world to do it.

**Warnings for murder in the next chapter, though I'm sure that shocks no one. Please read & review! It helps, it really does.**


	2. Chapter 2

** So, just setting up the story here. Next chapter will be more fun. Will is a helpless adorable kitten, yay!**

Chapter 2

When Will woke up, it was with a blinding headache and the feeling that something just wasn't quite right. He was alone, in a near empty room, lying on a luxurious king-sized bed with fluffy white covers, in a white room. There was a nightstand next to him, and a dresser across from him. The air felt stale, and Will got some sense that this house wasn't exactly lived in. He sat up, and immediately flopped back down again to stop the dizziness.

Where was he? What had happened? He remembered, vaguely, being called to a new crime scene, his car breaking down, Hannibal picking him up… His mind danced around the actual facts. He didn't want to deal with them now anyways.

There were no windows, and a chandelier. Will leaned back on the bed, groaning. His body was oddly numb in some places, and felt strange. It was, fortunately, just the under parts of his arms and his knees, but it was… off.

He tried to raise his right arm, trying to shake off the numbness when he saw it. There was a neat, clean, thin line of stitches, right over the muscles of his triceps. He tried to move his left arm, to stroke the stitches, see if they were real or if it was… fake or something, but his left arm wouldn't move either.

His eyes fluttered, the only symptom showing on his face of his panic, and he knew if he looked down he'd see similar incisions on his legs. _Did he…? _He didn't know what to think, but the shock of it brought the facts back to him.

The phone call, the realization, Hannibal slowing down, the needle that went into his arm, and the vague recollection of a long car ride, kept mostly dreamy because every hour or so Dr. Lector came back with a new injection.

The door opened, and Will's eyes widened. He understood now why there were no restraints on him on the bed. He could barely summon up the energy to move his arms an inch or two off the sofa, let alone crawl his way to the door, even if he wanted to. Dr. Lector stood there calmly, a neat serving of bread, eggs and fish next to a roll of fresh bandages and needles.

He didn't look surprised when Will asked, "What did you do to me?"

He put the tray down next to Will's bedside table before answering, "Nothing fatal." His peculiar red-brown eyes rose and met Will's with an intensity he'd never recognized before.

"I could work that out," Will said with a laugh that was all panic. "But what did you _do_ to me?"

"I knew it'd be more convenient to have you slightly weakened for the next few months or so, so while you were sleeping I took the liberty of cutting a few of the muscles you would normally need to move efficiently. You have no reason to worry," Hannibal said nonchalantly, despite Will's disbelieving face. "The cuts were clean and will heal in their time."

"And in the meantime," Will asked tremulously, trying to put a brave face on it. "What's going to happen that I needed to have my muscles cut?"

Hannibal gave Will a tight smile, deciding omitting his plans was the best course. The things he planned to do to him… were best left unmentioned while Will was still in a vulnerable state and adjusting. "Stay here. We will continue our sessions, and I'll take care of you."

"You're a serial killer," Will said out loud, and Hannibal smiled slightly, and tugged off Will's old bandages.

"I'm also your friend, Will."

"We're not friends, Dr. Lector," Will said viciously, knowing it wasn't wise but needing to say it anyways. "You're the one we've been hunting all this time… you're a murderer."

Dr. Lector only smiled, though maybe Will could detect a hint of pain at Will's ferocity. "Nevertheless, I am now your only caretaker. We are alone here, hundreds of miles from any sort of civilization, and I am your only chance to survive."

Will's chin rose. "Jack Crawford will find you. Now that he knows who he's looking for."

Hannibal laughed out loud, enjoying Will's naivety, and saw the confidence leave his face. "Jack Crawford spent two years coming to my dinner parties and searching for me, Will. He's not as good as you think, and we're nowhere near where he can find us."

Hannibal found himself tracing an affectionate hand over Will's thigh, near where he cut, and pretended it was only to examine the wound. Will didn't flinch, which meant he had no idea the plans Hannibal had in store for him. The thought only made him happier.

His voice got softer, and lower. "All those years I spent avoiding killing, and I had a lot of free time left over. I found this nice place, owned by an old rich recluse. He gave me the keys and I made him into pie." He briefly enjoyed the look of shock, and settling look of despair creeping over Will's face. "We're in the Canadian wilderness, four hours away from the US border. I have enough money to sustain us for forever, and we have all the time in the world."

"Wh—" Will cleared his throat, his look of raw fear overcoming his indignity. "Why would you want that?"

Hannibal smiled again. "A discussion for later, I think." He softened when he examined the raw fear on Will's face. "Have no fear, my friend. I don't ever intend on eating you. That's for… the lesser masses. I have different plans in store for you." The look he gave him made Will shiver.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Will's head, lingering slightly. "Eat, if you can and have the appetite. We have much to do, but fortunately we have all the time in the world. I'll see you in a few hours." He gathered up the medical equipment and left a frozen looking Will staring at him from the bed, his face a mask of pain, confusion and fear.

He looked around him, and felt distinctly that everything Hannibal had said was true. He was alone here with him, he did depend on him… but it wouldn't always be that way, he vowed.

Eventually, Will was going to get his strength up and Hannibal was going to make a mistake.

It's not forever, Will lied to himself, I'll get out of this someday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! Love all the reviews, even if I can't read Spanish… :P Big shout out to the story **_**The Purple Room**_**—If you guys like my story, you'll definitely like that one, as mine is kind of a fanfic of her fanfic and she's a fantastic writer with a great slow build and suspense story. :D **

** Warnings for… um…**

** So incredibly sorry, I meant to have murder in this chapter, but it got too long so I put it in the next, which I've immediately posted. So, yeah, everything's getting delayed and going slower. Sorry!**

The night went by slowly, Hannibal bringing food up and tending to him carefully while Will's mind raced. He tried to think about his current situation, on how he was going to escape, but all he could remember was the victim's faces, and being in Hannibal's mind without knowing it. _What did I say?_ Will laughed heart-brokenly to himself; _He's a sadist that will be almost impossible to catch. He's intelligent, sensitive, and thinks himself above society. He won't make any mistakes. _

Maybe, though… just maybe, taking Will in was a mistake Hannibal had made. As far as he could tell, the only way Hannibal was preventing Will from leaving was by injuring his muscles so he couldn't move, but after he healed, he saw no locks on the doors, and was intelligent enough to escape. Hannibal must have a plan, Will determined.

He spent the night alone, listening to creaks and groans of the house, hearing the hours tick by and trying not to close his eyes. Whenever his eyes closed he felt like Hannibal was in the room, a lurking nightmare in the corner of his eyes that he couldn't predict. When he did finally fall asleep, he dreamt of Hannibal. He dreamt Hannibal was growing, above the treetops, looking down at him with a therapist's smile and his fine suits, reaching down to pick him up but accidentally squishing him in the process. In another version of the dream, Hannibal held him in the palm of his giant hand, stroking him gently as one would an injured bird, Will's heart beating crazily in his chest.

He woke up, as he often did, in a cold sweat with his eyes foggy. The clock said five o'clock, but Will resolved not to risk any more nightmares.

He sat up by strength of his abdominal muscles, and moved to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, but cursed when his arms would only twitch, his fingers only clench. He couldn't raise his arms, or move his legs, and after the terrible inability to move in his dreams, now it felt like he was worse off than tied up and locked away.

Maybe that was part of Hannibal's plan? It was a lot more psychologically torturing to know that your body prevented your escape, not your surroundings. It was a different kind of betrayal, and made it difficult for Will to want to trust his body if the time came when he could escape.

Eventually Will heard the shower running, rooms over and closed his eyes in despair that he wasn't alone in this hell. Hannibal was awake. Will closed his eyes and tried to ignore the passing of time that brought Hannibal closer with each second.

When Hannibal finally arrived in Will's doorway, close to an hour later, with his hair, suit and eyes as unreadable and impeccable as always, he lingered a moment, watching Will. Finally, Will gave up on pretending to be asleep and let his eyes drift open. He stared at the ceiling; not saying a word as Hannibal gradually came across to his bedside. He put a hand on Will's forehead, checking for fever, and ran the lightest touch over each and every operational wound. Finding no infections or the like, he smiled down at Will, who resolutely ignored him.

"I suspect you'll need to go to the bathroom. Will you need help?" Hannibal reached under Will and helped pull him up into a sitting position. Will tried not to shudder at the thought of being accompanied by Hannibal every time he had to take a piss and scowled.

"I'll be fine on my own if you would get me to the bathroom." Silently, Hannibal got an arm underneath Will's shoulders and helped to propel him to the side of the bed. His legs lay uselessly were they were, merely straining as they tried to offer assistance in the move. They were weak as a newborn baby's, but Will clung to the hope that they'd move when he needed them to. His feet touched the floor, and his legs wobbled for a moment before completely giving up.

He ended up sprawled out on the floor, having not smacked his head only because Hannibal was there, silent but with the slightest of smiles hidden away. Will felt his face turn red.

"Um," he muttered eloquently. "I can't…" It was foolish, of course, to be feeling apologetic to the person who'd maimed him, but a part of him still saw himself as a burden on his psychologist and friend, even now knowing it had all been a lie.

"Mm," Hannibal said neutrally, hiding away his expression that was a mixture of aspiration and pure affection. He was really going to enjoy this next part. It was part of the reason why he'd decided to hurt Will like he had. "If you will allow me to…?" Without waiting for an answer, Hannibal scooped him up in his arms, bridal style, ignoring the reddening face of the younger man.

He was lighter than Hannibal expected, and now that they were so intimately close Hannibal felt like he could smell and touch everything on Will. The smell of his sweat, the terrible and old aftershave he used, the sheets on his body, the rain he'd been carried through just the other day. His skin was unsurprisingly soft, just like he'd imagined it would be, but there was a rightness he hadn't expected when he held Will, a sensation that made his heart pound with excitement and made him want to take him, right then and there.

"Perfect," he purred, without thinking, and Will twitched away in his arms. Had that been sensual for him? He didn't want to spoil the surprise if Will began to anticipate all Hannibal had in mind for him. "You don't weigh too much," he added on, his voice purposefully dry to make up for unexpected emotion. "I suspect I'll be doing this a lot in the next few days." He added on a sigh.

Will ducked his head and resisted the urge again to apologize.

He got him settled down in the bathroom and closed the door on his way out. The bathroom had been striped of anything even remotely capable of harming himself or Will. He'd even taken the shower curtains and the mirror away. The window in that bathroom he had covered with steel bars. It was just another sign of his imprisonment. Will went about his task clumsily, struggling to move his arms, but eventually managing after many tiresome tries. Outside, Hannibal fixed the bed sheets and hummed quietly under his breath, a classical piece that he planned to play that night.

Ah, what a pleasant time it was going to be. He found himself fixed in place, staring off as he imagined how the night was going to go. Will, helpless in his arms, crying and struggling, feeling his warm muscles, as he struggled not to…

Hannibal smiled. If he allowed himself too many fantasies, he'd never get anything done.

He collected Will from the bathroom, who looked frustrated and again tired, and relished holding him again. He bore it silently until Hannibal put him down on the bed. He looked up at Hannibal and finally asked, "Why am I here, Dr. Lector?"

Hannibal looked up and smiled. "Because I want you to be." He said, adjusting Will's position on the bed so he was lying down flat. "I enjoy your company immensely, Will, and I was not yet finished with you when Jack Crawford interrupted the process."

"Finished?" Will prodded tremulously.

Hannibal only smiled. "We have much work to do, but I am not inexperienced in influencing minds, Will. It will be harder now that you're more aware of who—of what I am, but I will make you perfect."

"I don't want you to make me _anything_."

"And yet you really don't have a choice in the matter. We will begin tonight." Hannibal swept his eyes over Will's cheap choice in clothing, crinkled from the rain and smelling like dogs. "You can wear those, since they need to be disposed of anyway."

Will tried to squirm his way into a more up-sitting position, but eventually flopped back down with a tired sigh. "And in the meantime?" Will asked quietly. "What am I supposed to do?"

"We can spend the day together," Hannibal said with a smile. "I will bring you some food, and we can talk until this evening, when I have plans. I understand this must be traumatic for you, so I'll do my best to answer any questions you might have."

"Appreciated," Will said wryly. His curiosity got the best of him. "What are you doing this evening?"

"Preparing," Hannibal said, and there was viciousness in his eyes that made Will go quiet. "For the evening."

**Murder in the next chapter, promise it'll be more exciting! Read and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hannigram Chapter 4**

** This 4****th**** chapter is kind of continuation of the third, but I promise a lot of gore and emotions :D. Warnings for murder, planning of rape, forced cannibalism and trauma. Good stuff.**

Later, Hannibal was finally on the drive back home, all the necessities well and carried out; food supplies for the next month or so at most, though most of it was fresh product, household supplies, knives and plenty of toys. When the time came, he wanted to be fully prepared to go through with it and break Will. That meant a lot more than fucking him, it meant making sure he truly knew whom he belonged to, and part of that was having the right tools. The last of the ingredients for the night was in the back seat, slouched over each other and drooling.

Canadians were not easy prey. Unlike Americans, whose greed made it easy to trick them into accepting a drink, Canadians were hospitable and warm but distanced themselves. So, preferring his American prey, he travelled back to the states fairly and found his own prey.

The first one was a young woman who an acquaintance had mentioned; she slept with men in one-night stands, and forced them out in the mornings. She'd posted photos of the night on his acquaintance's professional site. That was rude in the extreme. The second was a man he'd met himself on one of his trips, who worked at a local hardware store and was disgustingly full of himself and condescending to others.

They'd do nicely for Will's first time.

He set the man in the basement, secured him and carried the girl to the top. She was pretty, young and seemed relatable. Whether that would make Will killing her easier or harder was completely unknown to Hannibal, but he was excited to find out.

She, of course, had to be killed in the kitchen to make the meal perfect. He cleared off the low table top, which was the perfect height for Will, and therefore for Hannibal, put a protective layer of wrap over it to stop the blood from staining and went about making the rest of the room perfect. Everything had to be just so. No clues that could ever possibly lead the FBI back to the cabin. He got on his clear suit, the one he always used.

He stripped her naked and made sure she was immobile on the table. It was about time for the drug to work out of her system, and for her to wake up. If that wasn't enough, he pulled out a knife and examined its sharpness.

"Whuh…?" Her head turned lop-sided, one eye opening drunkenly.

"Oh, just on time." He lowered the knife to her chest just below the collarbone, and relished the suspense for a moment. He placed the first cut a smooth and dignified mark, and her eyes widened and she jerked around the table, finally sober and conscious. The next line had her screaming, a high-pitched keen of agony.

In the room above the kitchen, Will was woken by the screams from his light daze. Everything in his body went tense, and he began to hyperventilate, a raw pit in his stomach of fear. Terror made time spread out, made the distance between him and Hannibal seem so short, and he suspected whatever Hannibal was going to do, Will was going to be involved somehow.

When Hannibal finally opened the door, Will was shaking on the bed; his eyes wide like a startled animal about to be slaughtered. It was almost lovely to watch, his Will spread out on the bed like a virgin sacrifice, scared for the first time. That's what this was like. It was… popping the cherry so Will would be okay with it later.

He tried to smile as gently as he could, offset by the screams down below, and ran an affectionate hand over Will's precious brown curls.

Will licked his lips, and said, like he was trying to convince himself, "you don't want to do this." It was more desperate than honest, and any illusion he might have gained during the day or that were still lingering that his former psychiatrist was not a serial killer were being destroyed.

Hannibal frowned at him, but his mood quickly lightened at the excuse to be able to pick Will up in his arms, holding him like a bride going to bed. "Use your gift, Will. You will see everything you need to know."

Will knew it was true, but he couldn't—didn't want to. His eyes shut and Hannibal gently carried him down the stairs. "I don't want to," he whispered.

"You will see none the less."

When the girl, strapped down to the table naked and cut, an X above her heart came into sight Will's breathing turned more erratic and Hannibal could feel the strong and quick pulsing of his heart through his suit and hands. It made him smile to imagine Will was feeling so strongly about this, and when Will turned away from the scene, unwittingly burying his face in Hannibal's chest, he felt a rush go down his body, and felt his arousal painfully.

This was perfect.

This was how it was supposed to be. Will, defenseless and in his arms before their kill, spread out like a feast on the table. Will, leaning into Hannibal to protect him from the nightmares, while he constructed the whole thing.

"Puh-puh-leez," the girl managed around her gag. Her eyes rolled around in her head, her entire being shaking. Obviously if Hannibal cutting her hadn't been a clear indication of what was going to happen to her, the rest of the knives arranged so lovingly around her were.

"Hannibal… Dr. Lector, don't do this," Will finally sobbed, and Hannibal brushed his hand over his hair comfortingly. He didn't like to see his Will so upset at such a beautiful moment in their relationship, but it was unavoidable and he had mentally prepared himself. No matter how pitifully and beautifully Will begged he had to complete his plan now. Tonight. "She hasn't done anything wrong, you can't _do this to her!" _His words became high pitched and frantic as Hannibal set him down on the table right next to her, their legs touching. Now Will's eyes were becoming wide and he asked fearfully, "are you killing me, too?"

"No," Hannibal said, "of course not. And I'm not going to be killing her, Will. You are."

The realization hit Will of what was about to happen, but he still shook his head vehemently, pulling away from Hannibal, trying to push himself off the table with what little strength he had. Hannibal put his body in to stop Will from going anywhere and shushed him until finally his frantic babbling stopped. Will was scared. That was all right, he wasn't used to it yet, but Hannibal would make this happen as many times as he had to until Will was like him.

The victim's hands were almost unbound except at her elbows, which was on purpose. Predictably, she reached up and began clawing at Will, digging her nails in to the skin on his arm, drawing blood. It almost made Hannibal hiss with jealousy. She had no right to go touching his Will, but it was all a part of the plan.

When they found the girl's body, they'd find Will's sweat and fingerprints on the knife, and his skin under her nails. They'd doubt it, Jack Crawford and the team personally knowing Will and Will being a known victim of kidnapping, but after fifth and sixth victims they'd start to doubt it. They'd have questions, which was exactly how Hannibal wanted it.

He tenderly took Will's hand and a thick, steak knife and carefully wrapped them together using tap. Will used all the strength in his hands to try and push it away, but Hannibal was still the stronger, and soon the knife was as surely connected to Will as Hannibal was. Will and the girl didn't seem to be able to take their eyes off the knife, both of them looking at it in object and complete horror.

Hannibal turned Will around so he was facing the girl, and lined up his shoulders so that his Will's were even. He put his head on Will's shoulder, and ran his fingers delicately over Will's maimed arms. The knife hung at the bottom of the table, as far away from Will as he could make it. All Hannibal had to do was position Will, lift up his arms, brace his back and gravity would do the rest of the work. Will wasn't able to lift his own arms, let alone a big steak knife.

Finally, Hannibal's hands rested on Will's wrists, and he could feel every tiny shake and shudder that Will made, tight up against his chest as he tried to escape. It felt so good; he made a note to remember it for future purposes. Perhaps it'd be a good position for when he and Will were making love, later.

"I'll give you an option," Hannibal whispered in Will's ear as he raised the steak knife in Will's hands. The noises of the victim were getting louder, but Will was quiet except for tiny helpless sobs. "I can let this knife drop with just you holding it, dragged down by gravity, which will likely make a dent of a few inches. Not enough to kill her, at least until I make you do it a second and third time. _Or _we can do it together." He pressed his body promisingly against Will's wondering if he'd see the logic of a merciful death, or if he was too disgusted with Hannibal to bear having a murder in common. "Kill together. Be gods together, Will. You and I."

"I don't want to kill her." He whispered, barely in a breath.

"You will. You have a choice in how you kill her, though, Will."

Will drew in a shuddering breath, and finally said, "Together. I choose together."

The girl was the only one that could see Hannibal's triumphant and pleased smile, but of course dead women tell no tales. Hannibal would hold true on his promise. He nuzzled Will's neck affectionately for a moment of happy emotion, then he brought the knife up and enjoyed himself for a moment, hearing their terrified whimpers. He brought the knife down, perfectly over the X and straight through her heart. Merciful.

She stopped breathing within seconds and then the only noises were of her blood draining and Will gently crying, pressed against Hannibal's chest. Carefully, he unwrapped Will's hand from the knife, avoiding cutting himself and gathered Will up in his arms.

"Good job," he whispered. "You did so well, Will. I'm so proud of you." He held onto him as he shook and sobbed, offering Will the comfort no one else could and feeling him trying to get away. That was all right. Someday Will would come to enjoy these moments spent together.

He left Will there on the floor after about thirty minutes. He couldn't let the body go bad, sitting there, not where there was so much meat to be had. He heard Will's crying soften, until Hannibal picked up the knife and began cutting her up into perfect steaks. He had a different plan for each part of her body, but tonight they'd be eating her kidneys. Kidneys were always small, easy to eat and delicious. Perfect for Will's first known act of cannibalism.

Will was a bloody mess on the floor, tears and human remains all over him, so while the kidneys cooked in the oven, Hannibal went over and picked him up, regardless of the way Will flinched away, which cause no small pain in what was left of his heart. He cleaned him up and brought out some of the more casual clothes he'd bought Will, guessing the size, and gently began to remove Will's clothes. Removing the underwear was too person for Will not to understand Hannibal's intentions, so he avoided looking too long or too interestedly.

But he was very, very interested. Will's body was soft, smooth and compact, but there was a pleasant amount of muscles on display that was pleasing in every way. Not too much, not too little, and of course nothing in comparison with Hannibal's but his whole body was fascinatingly beautiful. His chest was completely hairless, more by DNA than intention, Hannibal correctly surmised. A few freckles dotted here and there that Hannibal desperately wanted to trace over with his tongue, and his nipples were small and pale, and he hoped, sensitive. Will seemed entirely oblivious to any lustful look Hannibal took, and truthfully, to the attractiveness of his own body. Even his face was so perfect.

Hannibal contemplated how lucky he was to find someone like him, who was so beautiful, innocent and utterly alike him.

Reluctantly he put clothes back on him, resolving that when the time came in that part of their relationship, Will would spend _days _naked on Hannibal's bed, spread out like the Greek god he so perfectly embodied. Then he would dress him up the nines only for the opportunity to rip those perfect suits off his body.

Looking away and dressing him up briskly to hide his growing reaction, Hannibal quickly set away and began cleaning and preparing other parts of the kitchen, of which he was particularly talented and experienced. He spent hours making everything perfect, and finally set Will up in a chair that would hold him while he finished preparing.

Will had a look in his eyes that saw far beyond the kitchen, a common expression in victims of trauma, and Hannibal approached him slowly with the plate of perfectly prepared kidneys, held out like an apology.

"Will?" He placed the plate in front of Will, and tried to ignore the look of utter repulsion on his face. He brushed his hair gently away from his face and held his chin in his hands. He voice grew stern. "You know I can make you eat this. You can't stop it, and I have plenty of extras."

More tears streamed from Will's eyes, a hopeless sort of agony in them, and he looked at Hannibal pleadingly. Hannibal set his face into one of seriousness, and held Will's eyes, which were absolutely beautiful like that, crying and pleading and looking to Hannibal for mercy.

"Eat this whole plate, or I will unfreeze other parts of her and feed you that much more."

Will gasped, a late sort of sob, and closed his eyes. Hannibal smiled and brought the first bite up to Will's mouth, which gradually opened…

**NEWS ALERT!**

**I JUST GOT A NEW MACBOOK AIR, AND I DON'T HAVE MICROSOFT AIR DOWNLOADED. I HAVE PAGES, WHICH MEANS THAT THE FIFTH CHAPTER, ALTHOUGH WRITTEN AND LONG, CAN'T BE PUBLISHED FOR SOME REASON. IT JUST WON'T CONVERT OR SOMETHING. IF ANYONE KNOWS ANYTHING ON HOW TO HELP, PLEASE MESSAGE ME AND I WILL POST THE NEXT CHAPTER AS SOON AS I CAN.**


	5. Chapter 5

**GUYS I FIGURED IT OUT! In case you didn't know, the huge gaps in my updates have not entirely been my fault, as I got a new computer and couldn't figure out how to get something non-microsoft word on Fanfic. But I did. So here it is. As per always, not beta-ed (or edited in any way, shhh) Anyway~ some non con in this chapter. Like, serious non-con. Don't even touch this if you don't want to read non-con. This is straightforward rape. I'm not even entirely sure it's well-written rape. So… Hope you enjoy. Or not?**

** Yeeeaaaaaahhhhh… if you have triggers, just… just don't read this fanfiction. Pretty much every chapter's gonna have something.**

** First part is in Hannibal's POV, second is in Will's, then it switches again. i'm a hot mess.**

Chapter 5

Will hadn't been able to keep the kidneys down. That was okay. He wouldn't be able to keep throwing it up forever, since human flesh was all Hannibal intended to feed him. It would be mixed in with all the other things necessary to keep his Will healthy, but even later, when human flesh would be harder to hunt, Will would always look at every bit of meat like it was cut from a person. That was what Hannibal wanted.

That and…

It was marvelous to see Will conscious of his own cannibalism, conscious while he was eating it, to see him swallow it down with that look of spiritual fear. Men placed such significance in human flesh. Decorated it up for special occasions, cleaned it all the time, and when they were dead, even then rituals were held. He liked breaking those rituals down, arguable some of the most sacred rituals of all.

It most satisfying because he knew what it meant. It wouldn't be long until Will was ready to hunt, live and be his equal. The knowledge that that was coming was satisfying the way a pleasant dream or goal was satisfying, but he knew it was out of reach. It was like the flavor of a wine; richened the longer it lasted, drawn out to perfection, but it would be years before he could completely trust Will, and even then he'd have to be handled with care.

He wanted immediate satisfaction as well.

"Oh, Will," Hannibal said with a touch of fondness. "All that effort I went to making that for you. It's almost unpleasant to see it wasted, but of course I'm much more pleased that you agreed in the first place."

"I didn't want it," Will sobbed. "I didn't want to…" He was trying to justify what he did, which was not acceptable. If he started developing the sense that Hannibal was to blame, instead of placing the blame on himself, it could lead to rebellion.

"Of course you wanted it. You wanted the quick way out. The painless way. Anyone else could have— would have, really— tried to at least take their own life to get away from doing what you did tonight, but you… didn't."  
"I had no choice."  
"No. I gave you a choice, and you chose the right thing." He gave Will his toothbrush, and wiped the sweat from his neck. He'd had a stressful day, but Hannibal was afraid he was only going to make it worse. Hannibal pulled Will up away from the bathroom, and into Will's bedroom. If Will had been gaining back any strength, from the way he stumbled and trembled, it was all gone now. It was for the better.

"Someone giving you one clear and logical choice and one other with clearly terrible consequences isn't much of a choice," Will whispered as Hannibal propped him up, making Hannibal smile. His face was pale, his eyes unfocused, but his words indicated that the old Will was still working in there somewhere.

"Do you know why I chose you?" He asked, changing the subject. That got his Will's attention. "Out of everyone. Valuable psychiatrists, friends, psychotics under my care… I chose you. Why?"

Will closed his eyes, involuntarily snapping into his empathetic gift. "It's because— you see yourself in me." He opened his mouth like he was about to go on, but closed it firmly. "I'm nothing like you, Hannibal."

"You don't see it yet." Hannibal said, cupping his chin, making him look up at Hannibal. "Even before I took you, you were already becoming like me. I could see it, Will. Your empathetic gift is a beautiful thing. Before long you'll see everything like I do."

"That's it?" He asked weakly, disgusted. "You wanted me to… see the world through _your _eyes? And then what? What happens to me when… when we see things equally?"

"Live happily ever after?" Hannibal said with a slightly mischievous grin, a mask he used to wear for the public, but he, surprisingly, wanted to display some humanity to Will tonight. "I was thinking we might travel, tour Europe, visit Moscow…" There was a stunned look of horror on his face. "You thought I'd give you up, at some point." Hannibal guessed correctly.

"I thought… you were going to kill me, after your little _experiment_ was done."

His little Will had thought Hannibal was going to abandon him, Hannibal thought fondly, running his finger through Will's curl, watching it fall back down, smiling. "I'm never going to leave you, Will. You're… everything to me now."

He leaned forward, cradling Will's head in his hands, and brushed their lips together. Barely a butterfly kiss, but he heard Will gasp, saw it in the way his eyes diluted and slide past him. It barely required empathy to understand what was about to happen, but he saw the jump made anyway.

"No," he said quietly. "No, please, don't." Hannibal reached over and pressed his lips against Will's hard, and didn't let him pull away. Will, trembling with effort, raised his arms to press Hannibal away. He lips were soft, and the feeling of him pushing back, so present and attentive to every move Hannibal made, made the kiss. His body was electrified with what he was about to do.

_Will's POV_

HIs lips were soft, but they kept on pressing harder against him, trying to get his mouth open, but hanging back. It was wise of him. If Hannibal put his tongue inside his mouth, Will had every intention of biting him.

He couldn't move his arms. Not well. Even at his fittest, he doubted he was a match for Hannibal Lector. He could feel the strength in his arms when he carried him, could feel the muscles as Hannibal pushed him down on the bed.

He prayed, for the first time in years but not the first time of the day, that it would stop there. That Hannibal would back off— oh, he wasn't naive enough to think it wasn't going to happen. He prayed it wouldn't happen now, at one of the rawest emotional moments in his life. The stress had already made him cry, and his body and mind pushed him beyond that into a hazy, disoriented view that gave a level of surrealism to what was happening.

Hannibal's hands were on his buttoned down shirt, working on the buttons, his fingers never shaking. His eyes had a predatory excitement as he swept a look up to Will's face, to see his fear and his desperation. He softened for a moment and caressed his face with one hand, the other not slowing down in it's movements.

"Please," Will said softly. "You know what this is. I don't want this."

"You will," Hannibal said shortly. "Don't worry, Will. I have experience with this."

"With rape."

"I'll be gentle." Hannibal looked down at Will's bare chest, as delicious as it looked yesterday, but this time _bared_ for his sake. "If I can."

He fell on Will like an avalanche, his suit getting rumbled as he dragged himself over him. Will was hardly even aware of trying to get away, using what muscles he had to squirm out from underneath him, feeling tears of helplessness and hurt in his eyes. He pushed himself to the other end of the bed, gasping and holding back tears. Hannibal followed him patiently, his eyes never leaving his, except for when he looked appreciatively at Will's body.

Hannibal caught him at the edge of the bed, stopping him trying to get even farther away, and potentially hurting himself. He dragged Will screaming and kicking to the middle, displaying a strength even he hadn't been aware he had. Hannibal roughly gripped Will's face in one hand, squeezing tightly, making tears run over.

"The worse you struggle, the harder this will be for both of us."

"Then don't. Just leave, and we'll pretend nothing happened. We can go back to the way it was— you never needed my body before, for… for therapy."

"This isn't about therapy, Will. This is about what's going to happen for the rest of our lives." He leaned down and brushed a kiss over Will's lips, ignoring the way he tried to maneuver around it. "This needs to happen, Will. I won't go back."

Suddenly Hannibal turned gentle, stroking all the areas of sensitivity on Will, feeling the muscles, but that didn't change that his other hand pressed Will's hands into the pillow above them. His hands played with the buttons on Will's pants. Will tried, once more, to move out of the way, but Hannibal pushed his hips down and dragged his pants down over one hips, then the other. He took his time, pulling off his shoes, socks, and jeans, until all Will was wearing was his underwear. He could see the lines of stitches were he'd operated, and he trailed fingers over them, making Will shudder with pain and twitch at the touch. He didn't bother begging. Hannibal was determined to go through with it, to make Will his… partner.

When Hannibal lowered himself down to Will's body, though, he wasn't expecting… physical longing. He could feel it through Hannibal's suit, and it simultaneously made him flinch and made color rise to his cheeks. _Physical _lust? His empathetic gift hadn't shown him that at all, it was just his mind he was fascinated by, but he could feel the pressure of it on his hips, grinding down. _His— _Will blushed, unable to think about it, and what it meant. Hannibal looked up, and licked his lips.

He disrobed like a man with all the time in the world; getting up from Will and the bed to move around the room— Will's room, except now he realized it was going to _their_ room— and putting everything in it's proper place. It was only when he stood there in just pants, looking at Will, mute and still with a combination of terror, helplessness and frustration that he climbed back onto the bed, and onto Will.

Holding Will down by straddling him, sitting practically atop his stomach instead of his hips and entwining their fingers seemed to be his favorite position. He unbuttoned his pants slowly, which were stretched tight over his cock. Will could see his white underwear, stretched out. His chest was unexpectedly hair and masculine, and muscles went all the way down his chest. He pushed his underwear down, and Will had to look away, partly out of denial-ridden fear, and also because while he'd always considered himself knowledgable and experienced about sex, he'd never done it with a guy, or even seen another man's, in real life.

He had to admit, from what he knew about other male's anatomy, Hannibal was big. Not terribly long (though he wasn't lacking in that either), but thick. There was a masculinity there that Will surmised bred Hannibal's confidence and secure nature.

He could see in the corner of his eye Hannibal stroking himself at a relaxed pace, looking down at Will. Will kept his eyes fixed at a corner in the room, trying to keep his heart beat under control, not to give up and cry and beg. He knew it'd get him nowhere.

Hannibal dragged the tip of his cock down Will's stomach, making him twitch again at the strange sensation, then quietly removed the rest of Will's clothes. Will was a lot less endowed than Hannibal, but it'd always been a bit more than enough to get him by, and he certainly wasn't ashamed of it on a normal basis, but this… there was no arousal in this to him, because all he could feel was humiliation.

Hannibal's hands wrapped around Will's cock, startling him though he should have expected it. It felt strange. He was used to feeling a woman's small, tentative hands down there. Hannibal's hands were big. The skin was soft but all muscles and certainty that Will imagined he built up from drawing and cooking. He couldn't help but look now, and Hannibal smiled at him and firmly started to stroke him, up and down.

"Please stop this," Will finally said.

Hannibal replied by pressing his lips firmly down on Will's, and moving off his stomach, laying all his weight down over his quarry. Will decided, though he knew it would be in vein, to try and push him away with his body, merely to see if he could. Hannibal was unmoved by the display of rebuttal, and allowed him to squirm. He moved his lips down, tracing his tongue over the straining muscles in Will's neck, catching and nibbling the sensitive hollows. His hand was still over Will, and as Will hardened, his thoughts grew more and more distracted.

"You don't seem to mind."

Will pushed back at him with indignation. "Don't you think for even a second," he spluttered, "you're making me…!"

"You have choices, Will," Hannibal lied. "I haven't taken all your choices away from you. You could chose to relax and let me work or be uncooperative and make this worse for yourself. You seem to be wavering between the two," he said with amusement.

Will glared up at him. "Whatever I do, you'll still force me to have sex with you?"

"Yes." There was an edge in his voice, that said that that point was nonnegotiable.

There was silence, and Hannibal began to work again, stroking Will and touching the sensitive parts of his body with his other hand. Will stared solemnly at the ceiling, almost unresponsive.

"Uncooperative, I think." He said quietly, a moment later, and threw his body upwards, catching Hannibal off guard. He couldn't raise his arms, but he could make his hands tight enough to leave bruises around Hannibal's wrists. He twisted out from underneath the side of him, and saw that Hannibal looked torn between shocked, amused and hurt.

"So be it." Hannibal roughly grabbed one of Will's hips and tore him painfully up and onto his stomach, leaning over his exposed back like a predator. "Maybe next time you'll deign to cooperate." Hannibal pushed Will's shoulders down and ran his tongue from the back of his neck down his spine. It felt like someone was drawing a feather down his back, it made his sense cringe and his head hurt.

He knew what would happen next.

Hannibal disappeared off the side of the bed, into the nightstand, and came out with a bottle of lube, but no condom. Will supposed if Hannibal meant to keep him, he must not have seen them as necessary. He put a generous amount in his hand and roughly spread open Will's legs, pushing his weakened thighs apart to either side to allow for better access. Will tried to close his legs, but with Hannibal between them and his legs already weakened, it was hopeless. He even tried rising up on his elbows, but each time Hannibal only smoothy pushed him down. More willing to express his feelings now that Hannibal couldn't see his face, Will allowed for the embarrassment of the position to redden his face. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hannibal used one hand to stroke himself, and the other played with the ass before him. He played with skin around the tight hole before he finally wetted a finger with lube and pushed one in. Will twisted, hard, and managed not to yelp at the strange sensation.

"Never done this before?" Hannibal guessed correctly. "Don't worry, William. You'll get used to it."

Will was about to respond when Hannibal gave his finger a twist, and Will focused all his energy on trying to make it stop rather than retort.

"You are delicious when you move like that." Then he smiled and pushed another finger in without any lube. There was friction, and pleasure when he stroked him inside. That didn't make Will like it any more. In fact, that made it all more shameful for him. It would be one thing if Hannibal got himself off using Will's body, but Will so badly didn't want to cooperate with him.

Hannibal moved behind him, adjusting and lining up and Will felt his cock press against between his ass. The head was large— and thicker than the fingers Hannibal had so far put in, which had hurt, slightly. Hannibal pushed in, barely an inch, and it was enough to have Will fighting back in full force.

It _hurt_ and Hannibal must have known it hurt from the agonized noises Will was making, but he didn't stop. Inch by inch, he pushed into Will. Finally they were locked together: Hannibal having given all he had, and Will having took more than he could. They laid there together, Hannibal not moving, but Will could feel every aroused twitch his cock made. He might not be actively moving, but Hannibal was certainly enjoying the experience, Will knew that. Finally, Will could feel after some of the tension start to leak out of him, after too long spent fighting his way through the pain and the tears pricking at the edge of his vision.

Hannibal sighed in relief and pulled sharply out of Will, making Will cry out and hurt more than anything else. Hannibal applied more lube onto his hand and soothed Will's insides, his fingers stroking around until they found a point in him that Hannibal's cock had only ever grazed, and it made him cry out and shudder.

He'd heard of the prostate, but he hadn't known what to expect.

Hannibal smiled at Will's reactions, reflecting on what _fun _inexperienced men were in bed the first time. All the new feelings and positions for Will to be introduced to… he had to admit he was enjoying himself.

He pushed back in, and set up a steady rate of moving, enjoying the control he had over Will, enjoying the way Will's body grew accustomed to the actions. He struggled still, but it was contradicted by the ways he moaned and pushed back when Hannibal stroked him. Pre cum leaked from his cock.

On his stomach was all well and good. It was possessive and dominating, but the romantic in him wanted something a little more special for their first time together. He pulled out and turned Will over onto his back so that Hannibal could get a really good look at Will's face. His eyes were wet with tears and his face was red— but just at the cheeks, a good healthy flush that extended to his neck. Such a pretty neck, too, Hannibal thought distractedly, but something for another time. His cock was hard and tasty looking.

Hannibal lowered his mouth down and took all of it in his mouth, a testament to his experience with male lovers, and enjoyed the moans he finally heard from Will. He moved languidly, aroused enough by the taste and experience not to go soft, and felt Will shudder beneath him. He came with a whimper, arching his back up and allowing Hannibal to caress the curves of his stomach eagerly. He doubted Will even knew he was doing it, but when he was done and spent, he laid on the bed passively as Hannibal rose up above him.

He lingered over the look of Will's thighs wet and spread apart for him, too weakened both by his orgasm and his surgery to be defensive, before moving up and touching his forehead to Will's. His muscular arms pinned Will's body onto the bed, making a cage with his flesh, before lowering himself back into that warm, tight space. Will shuddered, but with a few more strokes, his disgust faded away.

He felt so connected to Will in those moments. Their faces were close, their bodies felt inseparable, and he could feel every single twitch and jerk of Will's body. He could control him. The thought alone was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he didn't want it to end that way. With self-control, he forced himself to move slower and started to rub Will in every way he could, gaining back that momentum until both of them were needy with it.

In the last moments, Will's eyes closed and his head went back, exposing that long expanse of pale neck for Hannibal. Hannibal rose up and pushed in deeper and harder than he ever had before, simultaneously sinking his teeth into Will. With a moan that was pained and desperate, Will came and clenched around Hannibal's cock, driving both of them mad. With a satisfaction he rarely got from anyone else but Will, Hannibal licked a drop of blood from Will's lips and spilled inside of him.

His moans and whimpers were a melody, and Hannibal had to close his eyes over the sound of it. Climaxing felt the final push for Hannibal from fascinated, in love, hopeful, to obsessed, possessive and desperate for everything he'd ever promised himself from Will.

He wasn't sure if there was a way out of it for either of them now.


End file.
